Doll
by eternally lachambers
Summary: When she's fifteen, her heart becomes a plaything for boys, and he's no exception. But this time, she actually loves him. But he is a bad boy and she is a good girl. Good girls can't love bad boys. /Or/ she is a good girl, and good girls have to stay that way. /And/ she can't let the porcelain chip away. [Chia]


The girl with the jaded perfect smile and warm waves of perfect blonde hair brushes through her already silky smooth blonde hair, running her nice comb through it constantly. She looks in the large mirror, her shimmering, flawless mirror that hangs on the wall. Flawless mirrors are perfect and pretty. Like her. (Well, that's what she wants everyone to think.)

She curls her pretty blonde hair, and then she grabs her curling iron and- staring in the shimmering mirror- curls it to perfection, because she has to be perfect. She has to live up to the image, get the good grades, have those perfect sweet smiles, and she has to have the perfect body imagine. She has a ton of real friends, has a caring mother and a caring father, and an amazing sister. She loves her family, and that's not an act.

Everything she does reflects on her social status. She gets good grades- all straight A's- and is the prettiest girl in school, in Mission Creek, and she is adored by every single guy in Mission Creek. She can't have a life that's more perfect.

She does charity. She helps people out who are less fortunate than her. She plays soccer and helps out around the house, sometimes even doing Bree's chores for her. She gets perfect grades. She's a good girl.

That's what people want. They want a perfect, good girl.

And she tries everything not to disappoint them.

* * *

She sets her curling iron down and grabs a tube of pink designer lipstick. Once she's done applying the lipstick on her perfect lips, she grabs a tube of mascara and applies that and dabs on some top-of-the-line concealer, even though her tanned skin is all natural from spending days outside and she has no insecurities about her skin or her body.

So what's wrong with her?

She applies the rest of her top-of-the-line makeup and continues to get ready for the day, slipping into a lovely outfit that makes her feel pretty.

She walks out of her bedroom door and tucks a curl of blonde hair behind her ear. Bree smiles at her when she walks downstairs, and she smiles back.

Good girls smile at their sisters when they smile.

Mia kisses both her mother and her father on the cheeks as a way of saying good morning to her parents and grabs a bowl from one of the cabinets and a spoon from one of the drawers, and then she grabs the milk from the fridge and pours herself a bowl of cereal and makes herself a mug of hot chocolate and waits for it to cool down a little bit. She drinks it slowly, even though every impulse is screaming at her to just drain it and get it over with. She loves hot chocolate. She ignores the little voice that's telling her to drink it all down in one gulp and sips it slowly instead, making small talk with her sister and her parents until it's time to go to school.

Mia and Bree stand up and grab their jackets and are out the door in the blink of an eye.

Mia and Bree walk to school together, like they always have been doing since they were little. Mia gets lost in her thoughts.

There's one thing going on that makes Mia want to burst into tears, but good girls don't cry, so the tears dry up immediately. Bree's oblivious to what's going on, her parents don't know what's going on, and the rest of them don't see what's happening to her. Bree and her parents are oblivious, and so are everyone else. All they see is a perfect girl with a life any other girl would want.

But she is a good girl so she doesn't say anything about her seemingly breaking porcelain act. She is a good girl, so she shuts up and smiles, chocking back the words that she desperately wants to say to her sister, the words that are burning and dancing and playing on the tip of her tongue, but she is a good girl, so she says nothing.

* * *

The girl with the porcelain smile walks up to her locker at the end of the day and sees Rodger, the captain of the baseball team, leaning up against the locker that's next to hers.

"Hey Mia." He says, stepping back so her locker door can swing open, so that she has more room to move.

She smiles back instantly, the fake smile slipping onto her face like magic. "Hello." She says warmly, (which is again, fake.)

"So Mia." He begins, and she motions for him to go on while she shifts her weight. "I was wondering, would you like to go get ice cream later? Maybe after school?" He flashes the dazzling smile that's supposed to win her over, supposed to melt the heart of any other girl, but she's now immune to it. But she won't let him know that.

So instead she just nods and begins to unzip her backpack. "I would love to." She says, even though she knows that she has an English essay to write, she has to do two sheets of trigonometry homework, she has to type up a Science Lab that's due tomorrow, and has to do two pages of Global Studies homework to do as well.

But she's a good girl, and good girls smile and nod when the captain of the baseball team asks if they want to go on a date after school. She's supposed to do it all too. Like any other girl, she smiles (but there's something that the other girls don't do. She smiles, smiles that fake, pretty porcelain smile that's she's been practicing for a long time now,) and accepts the invitation to grab ice cream after school when the captain of the baseball team says something nice- like asking a cute girl to a date, like every other girl in Mission Creek High would be thrilled to have Rodger Haws ask them out on a date.

"Great," he grins but there's something wrong. She can see malicious flickering behind his pearly whites. She can see cunning burning in those beautiful green eyes. But she's a good girl so she says nothing.

* * *

He plays her heart. He tampers with and strings along and taints her kind pure heart. She trudges through pitying looks and murmurs of the scandal because she's still the good girl, she's the victim of the brunette heartthrob.

She's the good girl, after all.

* * *

Just a few days later, on a bright and sunny and warm Thursday afternoon just before lunch time, Mia walks down the stairs and into the main hallway and stops dead in her tracks, clutching her blue lunch bag to her chest so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She sees Chase Davenport- the school's bad boy- lead some airhead, plastic- (bad, bad girl. It's so bad to be plastic, don't they know that? Plastic can hurt you. Be like porcelain. Porcelain is perfect to everyone. Plastic is bad to everyone, but porcelain is good. Be a porcelain doll instead of plastic, darling.)- girl with medium length long raven black hair and emerald green eyes- who is wearing too much makeup and lip gloss and has very few clothes on that barely scrape by as acceptable by school standards (she can see her black lacy bra through her small white shirt)- into the janitors closet and the door swings shut.

She knows what he's going to do to that girl. He's going to kiss her and probably do some very sexual stuff with the girl and then hold her and then tell her how much he loves her and then they'll start dating and then not two days later he'll break up with her, break the girl into a hundred pieces.

She finds herself digging her nails into her arms and quickly stops. Perfect girls don't ruin their flawless skin. They don't get jealous when the school's bad boy leads a girl into the janitors closet.

Perfect, good girls don't slip up. They don't get jealous and think about bad boys. She's a good girl, and she doesn't want to slip up. She can't slip up, because then she'll be a bad girl, and she doesn't want that to happen.

So she'll keep trying to be perfect.

She is a good girl, after all.

* * *

She smiles and waves at Chase when she sees him. Good girls smile sweetly at people they see in the hall and say hello, after all. He ducks behind Sarah, his latest girlfriend. Some airhead on the cheerleading team. Mia doesn't give a second thought about her. She doesn't care about Sarah Crawford.

But there's suddenly a pang in her chest and a suffocating burning in her throat.

But good girls don't cry when bad boys ignore them. Especially if the bad boy is Chase Davenport. But her nails slip into her forearm for just a second.

That little voice in the back of her head scolds her, good girls don't ruin their pretty skin. You're supposed to be like porcelain, darling. Don't start being plastic. Bad, bad girls are plastic. She takes a deep breath to clear her head and notices a cute boy giving her a once over. A light smile stretches across her dolled up lips and she gives a small wave. He saunters over.

* * *

He tosses her heart out when he's bored. She breathes deeply. Fine. He's a bad boy, she's a good girl. She's the victim. She's their precious, heartbroken angel again. Again, again, again.

Warm arms greet her, gentle hands braid her hair and make her even prettier. The arms of her kind mother.

She's a good girl so she sits still while her mother works.

* * *

It's okay, she tells herself, it's okay. She's a good girl. She won't snap because Chase is kissing a girl in the hallway at school, plainly in view for people to see. Some stranger- this boy named Chase Davenport- can't make her snap. He's a bad boy, he can't do anything to a good girl.

Even if he shoves his tongue down that girl's throat in plain view for Mia to see. Which he does. And he sticks his hand under her black and white and pretty horizontal-striped short sleeved shirt. And he dips his fingers into her red skirt's waist band.

Mia clears her throat, which brings Chase and the girl whose name she doesn't really care about attention towards her, but Mia just bites her lip and walks away.

She didn't want to see that. No, she didn't want to see that.

She clears her throat again and mutters, "Doll."

Because that's what she is. A perfect doll.

* * *

A boy in dressy clothes asks her to a movie the next day. She smiles that perfect, doll smile and accepts because she's nice and that's what he wants. He grins. She knows that grin. Rodger Haws wore that grin, the bad boy who goes by the nickname 'Razor'- but his real name is Franklin- wore that grin.

She knows her heart is about to be his rag doll.

Well, that's what they think. Her heart is taken. And if they knew who stole it, she wouldn't be a good girl anymore. She'd either be a bad girl or she'd be a plastic girl. She doesn't want that. But no, she's being stupid. She's tired, not thinking straight. She just gave her heart to the cute boy with brown hair and green eyes in glasses and a God-forsaken cardigan. And that's the honest truth. She gave her heart away and he smashed her into a hundred pieces.

But she's a good girl and good girls don't lie.

* * *

The shimmering mirror still hangs on the wall, but it isn't the same anyone. It was once perfect, but it is now imbalanced, off slightly. Like her. Whoops. She's not so picture perfect now, is she? No. Not anymore. She isn't. The porcelain smile is slipping as well. Like the mirror. There are tears going down her face. She's ruining her makeup from those disturbingly hot, salty tears, the tears that run down her face. She's not supposed to cry this much. The sad part is that she doesn't know why she's crying. She just is. Her perfect dolled up face have been stained with tears, but her lips are still bright red. Her clothes are still perfect, and so is her pretty blonde hair.

The tears roll down her cheeks and onto her pretty designer clothes.

No one notices that she's suffering. She's drowning, and no one can see it. There's no one to rescue her from drowning. She desperately wants to tell someone- anyone, about what's she's been feeling- but she keeps her mouth shut.

But she is a good girl so she says nothing about drowning.

* * *

The porcelain is starting to burn her. It's getting itchy and claustrophobic and prickly and it just plain hurts.

She scratches at it and the layers peel away and pack themselves under her perfectly manicured bright red nails. She likes the sight of raw, red flesh, she knows it's not plastic and everyone knows that if you're plastic it hurts. She's felt crimson trickle out of it.

She likes the little moments but they always stop too quickly because she's a good girl. Good, good, perfect girl.

The porcelain doll.

* * *

Screams are chalked in her throat from years and years of suppression. Years of being a good girl, their pretty, pretty doll. The perfect porcelain doll that is fake. Fake.

She's a fake.

She wants, more than almost anything, to let the screams out. She wants to let them out soon. To scream and scream and scream and scream until her voice is raw and she can't speak for a week, maybe even to. She wants to scream. To not be that perfect good girl. To not be nice. To just be Mia Autumn Comenzo. Just for a small minute, maybe two, maybe three. A small taste of freedom, just once. Just a sample of what she can't negotiate. She just wants to be herself, and to not be that fake, porcelain girl all the time. But she'll keep up the act for as long as possible.

Because she's the good girl and good girls have to stay that way.

She can't let the porcelain chip away, after all.

* * *

By month two, it is driving her insane to be their pretty little rag doll. It's been eleven boys by now. All the stupid boys she doesn't want to say yes to anymore, she never wanted to say yes. But they expected her to do it. They were always watching and she could never say no or she would stop being the good girl and they would all wear those frowns she hates so much.

She wishes it were easier.

That he wasn't the school's bad boy, Chase Davenport. Because porcelain girls don't love the rebellious boys like this. Not like this, not like this.

The show must go on though. Someone has to make them all smile in pride. Someone has to get straight A's and do charity and be pretty as a doll.

Bree is only 16. She won't force this responsibility, this masquerade, this lie, onto her big sister. She'd break a lot faster than Mia had done. Mia doesn't want to break her big sister too. She'd never forgive herself.

Even if it means lying about loving him constantly, letting boys play with her heart, letting girls dress her up, she'll keep letting them smile. Because, she a good girl, after all. A _**very**_ good girl. And it has to stay that way.


End file.
